Chapter 28
The cold was almost pleasant after the chalet.
It had been too hot, the air stale and close, and Jem was still sweating—pinpricks under his arms, a rash across his chest, droplets sliding down his spine so that the sweatshirt was damp at the small of his back.
The crunch of the snow underfoot was so sharp it was like a crack, and the glare forced him to squint.
Afterimages followed him when he moved his head— floating spots of purple and green.
That was Stephen’s room.
That’s what the little gang of fuckups had told him.
Stepping into the lobby, passing through the automatic doors, into warmth and the clink of glasses—it was like passing through an airlock. He had the vague sense of pressure changing, like something tightening around him. His head was starting to pound.
At the bank of elevators, he jabbed the up button over and over again until Tean caught his hand.
Jem broke his grip. But he didn’t press the up button again. The tips of his ears were starting to throb in the warmth. A woman in ski gear, her goggles pushed up on her forehead, strode past them, saying loudly into a phone, “It’s a ski resort. You think they’d be happy to have some extra snow.”
“She wasn’t sleeping with Stephen,” Jem said.
Tean nodded.
“That’s some fucking bullshit story he made up because he’s embarrassed he bought into all that shit, and now he’s trying to make everybody else look bad.
” In the lenses of Tean’s glasses, Jem could see himself: small, wavy, transparent.
His voice came out more harshly than he meant it to when he said, “He doesn’t have any proof.
He doesn’t have anything.” A chasm of silence opened underneath them, and then Jem said, “Are you going to say something?”
Tean opened and closed his hands at his sides, and from a long way off, Jem felt bad about that. But Tean’s voice was calm when he said, “I think this is an emotional subject for you. And I think it would be good if we stopped and took a moment to think through this before we do anything rash.”
“I’m going to find him, and I’m going to punch his fucking teeth down his throat. What’s rash about that?”
“You think they’d want to get us out on the slopes,” the woman in the ski gear trudged past them in the opposite direction. “You think they’d at least be trying to make this a good experience for the rest of us.”
“Jem, you’re the one who pointed out that we’re dealing with a group of people who, in some areas of their lives, at least, are habitual liars.” Tean’s hands were pressed flat against his thighs now. “I understand that what Sawyer said made you angry—”
“It didn’t make me angry.”
“Made you upset, then—”
“It didn’t make me upset!”
His shout echoed in the elevator lobby.
“—not even trying—” The woman said on her next pass.
“This is a public area,” Jem barked. “Not everyone wants to hear your conversation.”
The woman scowled at him and strode away.
A soft chime made him turn. The elevator doors opened.
“Fina-fucking-lly,” Jem muttered and stepped inside.
The doors slid shut. He punched three, and the car began to rise.
Mirrors hung on the walls. His hair was a mess again, his eyes ringed with dark circles, his face wind- and snow-burned.
The red spots made him think, for a moment, of when he’d been a teenager, all the breakouts, because in Decker, skin care wasn’t exactly a priority.
He’d had to learn after he got out how to wash his face, how to keep his skin clear.
Tinajas had taken him to Walmart and shown him what to buy.
He closed his eyes, and the darkness felt unsteady.
Because of the elevator, he told himself.
He opened his eyes again, saw himself in the mirror.
When he heard his next thought, it was like a mirror as well: cold and smooth as glass.
I need a comb. And then, the reflection laid over it: I’m going to kill him.
The elevator chimed again. The doors opened.
Jem stepped out into a small waiting area—a pair of upholstered chairs; a side table with little wooden trinkets that had probably cost a fortune; another mirror that, this time, Jem avoided.
He stopped. Put his hands on his hips. He stared down at the carpet and took a breath. And then another. And then another.
Finally, he said, “Sorry.”
Didn’t say. Mumbled.
Tean rubbed his back.
The tears came so quickly, without any warning at all, that Jem wasn’t sure, at first, he’d be able to blink them away. But the rush faded again almost immediately. His nose felt stuffed. His face was hot. He was sweating again.
“So,” he said. He had to stop to wipe his nose. “This is all super fucked up.”
“It’s going to get better,” Tean said. “They’ll clear the roads. The sheriff will come.”
In spite of himself, Jem managed a wet laugh. “No, I mean me. I am super fucked up.”
Tean actually seemed to think about this for a moment. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think so.”
“Thanks, but yeah, I kind of am.” Jem shook his head. “God, maybe she was sleeping with him. What do I care? I don’t even know her, Tean. I don’t know who she is or what she does.”
“I think it’s understandable that you’d have a lot of emotions about your mom,” Tean said. “And I think it makes sense that they might manifest under a variety of circumstances, in ways you might not be able to anticipate.”
“Great,” Jem said.
“Most people feel protective of their moms. I think that’s natural.” Tean’s voice turned wry. “Which does raise the question of why I’m currently engaged in the process of being the world’s worst son.”
“You’re a great son,” Jem said. He blinked a few times to make sure his eyes were clear, and then he looked up. Tean wore a familiar worried frown behind the glasses. “Complicated emotions. Fraught relationship. Totally understandable. Sound familiar?”
Tean tilted his head. And a small smile cracked his expression. “Seriously fucked up.”
Jem laughed, and this time, it felt more like a real one. “That makes two of us.”
For a moment, Tean’s smile brightened.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jem said.
“I get it. Quinn and Beckett already told us that Stephen was spending a lot of time with Brigitte. We know somebody else was involved the night Tafton was killed. Now Sawyer says she and Stephen were sleeping together.” Absently, he checked his beard in the mirror, raked fingers through his hair, smoothed down his eyebrows.
“That’s every murder ever, right? You start with the spouse.
She’s cheating on him. She wants his money. Sometimes, it’s both.”
“Jem,” Tean said softly.
Jem went to work straightening Tean’s eyebrows next, which was more of a job. “It’s not even like she’s a good person. Maybe she did kill him. I don’t know.”
“Jem,” Tean said again. “Right now, what do we know? Stephen handled the money. He was charging wildly different—and sometimes exorbitant—rates. And Stephen lied about who he was. All of that points toward Stephen right now.” Tean seemed to be searching Jem’s face for something.
Finally, he said, “I need to know that you’re going to be okay when we find Stephen. ”
“You mean, you want me to promise not to punch his teeth down his throat.”
“That would be a good start.”
“Fine.”
Tean raised his eyebrows.
“For real?” It came out as more of a whine than Jem intended. But he muttered, “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s your fault I’m such a mess,” Jem said. “Just so you know.”
“Please don’t explain why.”
“Number one, no McDonald’s in, like, a hundred hours. That’s got to be some kind of world record.”
“That should be a baseline, not a new world record. And who are you competing against? And why? And—”
“Number two, no dick. And you promised me a double-bang holiday.”
“I remember saying, ‘We’ll see’—”
“And number three, you won’t let me FaceTime Scipio, even though you know he misses me.”
“Taking into account the fact that we haven’t had cell service for almost two days and the fact that Scipio is a dog and the fact that between his eyesight and his brain, he would have no idea what was happening with a FaceTime—”
“Oh my God, stop! He’d hear my voice! Why are you being so mean today?”
“How am I being mean?”
“You know what? I might be changing my mind. I don’t know if I even want this to be a two-bang holiday.”
“Thank goodness,” Tean half-whispered.
“I thought you were supposed to be sex positive!”
“Well, I’m trying, but you’re yelling at me a lot.”
Jem considered Tean, eyes sweeping up and down, until Tean started to blush. It didn’t take long.
“God, you’re lucky you’re so sexy.”
“I’m actually not sexy,” Tean said. “As a matter of fact—”
“Come on. Let’s find Stephen. And murder him. Kidding!”
Tean started to reach for his glasses but caught himself. He didn’t sigh—not exactly. But he did sound tired when he said, “You can see how that might worry me, though, right?”